


First Meeting

by cw151



Series: Clawen Week 2015 [1]
Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015), Jurassic World - Fandom
Genre: Backstory, Clawen, Clawen Week, F/M, First Date, First Meetings, board shorts, itinerary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cw151/pseuds/cw151
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1 of Clawen Week 2015: Owen and Claire meet for the first time, and go on their fated first date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic for Clawen Week 2015 - Day 1: First Meeting. 
> 
> I wasn't sure if I should leave Owen's backstory in there, so if you have any comments if it's ok in there or if I should have left it out, let me know. :)

Owen wasn't going to lie. The moment he was introduced to Claire Dearing on the ferry to Isla Nublar, he liked her.  _Really_ liked her. Claire was every inch the woman that Owen admired - smart, strong, no-nonsense, and very beautiful. Her piercing grey eyes seized him up as she stood ram-rod straight on impossibly high heels, exuding a powerfully authoritative air that seemed to command the attention of all those around her. Owen didn't doubt for a second that Claire was the kind of woman who kept her cool in the face of any crisis, who'd step over wannabes and bullies without the bat of an eye, and who'd look unruffled even if a T-Rex roared at her. In short, Claire was an alpha female, and Owen had always had a weakness for those. 

 

What he didn't like to admit right away was how alphas like Claire always made him weak in his knees. Female alphas made him feel like a teenager again, back in high school where he'd felt awkward and like an outsider most of the times.

 

His dad had left when Owen was only three years old, and while Owen loved his mom, mostly because she was, well, _his mom_ , he always secretly resented her for being the way she was. Throughout his childhood, men had been in and out of their small, rundown apartment in one of the worser parts of San Diego, and while Owen had at first thought that his mom just needed love and caring because she herself was just so loving and caring, he realized later on that it wasn't about love as such. Instead, it became clear to him that his mom didn't even know how to exist without a man at her side; she needed a man to feel safe and good about herself, often didn't even dare to make decisions on her own, and also heavily relied on her chain of boyfriends for financial support. Needless to say, the type of guys consequently drawn to his mother were usually the good-for-nothing ones, the ones who were unemployed or working shady jobs, and while Owen understood that his mom wasn't the way she was on purpose, he still hated her for it. Her lazy, useless boyfriends always were her top priority and she catered to their every whim while Owen was left with taking the backseat and the responsibility to comfort her when she was feeling bad about herself or had another argument with whichever partner at the time. In those moments, Owen’s anger increased by a tenfold; he resented himself for not being able to protect his mom against the emotional turmoil caused by her boyfriends, and he resented his mom for not sticking up for herself.

 

As a result, Owen had begun to spend his days outside early on. He liked the peace and quiet of nature, and often took the bus to the outskirts of town right from school. There, he either spent his days on the beach or in the wilderness of the dry woods, doing his homework on fallen tree trunks and watching the world around him, especially the animals. It seemed to him that animals were a lot easier to be around than humans; they straight up communicated what they wanted, if you were able to read them - which he soon learnt.

 

At one point, when he was twelve, he had asked his mom for a dog for his birthday, envisioning how the dog could make the time spent at home easier, could wait for him outside the school, and race through the forests and across the beach at his side.

 

He could still hear his mother's reply: "Aw, sweetheart, you know I'd love for you to have whatever you want. We'll have to check with Jack, though; you know how he doesn't really like pets."

 

Jack hardly liked anything, and so Owen wasn't surprised when Jack said no. While he'd learnt from experience that there was no point arguing with his mom's boyfriends, he still tried it every time, causing heated discussions during which Owen quarreled the more furiously the more his mom asked him to let her boyfriends have their way. His and Jack's "discussion" on a pet dog ended in a nasty shouting match, the first bitch slap of his life, and a tearful command by his mother to never, ever ask for a pet again. 

 

As a result, he just spent even more time out in nature. He even went on a trip with the boy scouts once, but didn't like the way they were doing everything as a group. He preferred to be by himself and chose animals as his companions instead, telling them all of his hopes and dreams, gaining their trust and coaxing them to follow his commands. The other kids at school thought that he was weird, especially after they overheard him soothing an injured bird in the schoolyard, but usually that didn't bother him. The only time their mockery really hurt was when he finally worked up the courage to ask out the new girl, Lucy.

 

Lucy had immediately made an impression on him. She was incredibly self-confident and loud, very unlike his meek mother, her blue eyes sparkled as she laughed and flipped her blonde hair, and she loved arguing her headstrong opinions with the teachers, never backing down. One day, Owen had managed to catch Lucy alone at her locker, and quietly and nervously asked her out. At first, Lucy had only stared at him, then her blond brows knitted. "Seriously?" she’d asked, and Owen had just nodded, his eyes wide. 

"Aren't you the guy who talks to animals?" 

Owen hadn’t known how to reply to that, but it turned out that he didn't have to. 

"Girls like me don't go out with guys like you," Lucy had sneered. "Even if you didn't talk to animals, have you even looked in the mirror lately? Who even wears clothes like that? Do you think you’re Indiana Jones or something?"

With that, Lucy had turned on her heels and stalked to her next class. Owen's face was burning, and he was grateful that no-one else had heard their exchange. Lucy's words had stung like a bee right in the middle of his stomach, and Owen had to use all of his self-discipline to keep up the poker face he'd developed over the years with his mother's boyfriends for the rest of the day. 

 

All of this was behind him now, though. Since then, he’d proven himself as one of the best Navy SEALs thanks to his powers of observation and correct reaction, both with people and service animals, and had been hired to train Jurassic World’s raptors as a result. His skinny teen figure had become brawny, and he’d developed a charm that he used extremely well on others, women in particular. 

 

So when he met Claire Dearing, he immediately hoped that by now, he was worthy of a woman like her. 

 

It took a while until he had the chance to ask her out. His first few months on Isla Nublar were filled with settling in, watching the raptors hatch and beginning to raise them. Just like with any other species, being a parent to four newborns was a full-time job, and when his busy days finally eased up, the raptors were already knee-high and speeding about their enclosure. 

 

By that time, Owen had also been able to make some additional observations regarding Claire Dearing. Just as he expected, Claire knew exactly what she was doing at all times, led the park with a firm hand, and didn’t take shit from anyone. He’d heard several park employees refer to her as the C-Rex, especially after she introduced a new reporting system that kept detailed track of everyone’s progress at work, and after she fired the Head of Guest Security, but he suspected that there was a lot more to Claire than just the perceived bossiness of others. For one, he’d noticed that those who worked directly with her on a daily basis had a very high respect for her, even as they rolled their eyes at some of her demands and decisions. A lot of them had told him that despite her extremely critical nature, Claire always tried to be fair and usually created win-win situations for everyone. She was true to her word, gave credit where it was due, and took her responsibilities very seriously. All that, and the fact that he’d seen her jog around the park early in the morning, made him want to find out who Claire Dearing really was.

 

He didn’t think she saw him; it had been just after six a.m., so most of the park was still asleep. The sun had just begun to rise and was dipping the sky in a tangy orange, and he’d decided to drop off some of his reports at the control room before heading to the raptor enclosure early. He didn’t even recognize her at first; instead of her usual business ensembles and heels she was wearing white shorts and a dark blue tank top, and her red hair was tied up in a small, messy pony-tail, a very different look from the prim and proper straight style that she usually sported. He watched her as she jogged down Main Street and paused at the petting zoo. Its dinosaurs were just starting to wake up, and some of them eagerly came over when Claire stepped up to the fence. He could tell by the way Claire rubbed their heads and necks that this wasn’t the first time she petted them, and the dinosaurs almost fell over each other trying to get closer to her. Claire was smiling widely and even let out a quiet laugh when she watched some of the dinosaur’s antics, and Owen didn’t think that anyone else at the park had ever seen her this relaxed and unrestrained. Her smile was mesmerizing, and Owen immediately decided to drop off his reports a little later today and to ask her out on a date at the same time. 

 

Unfortunately, the date went badly. Very badly. While Claire seemed happy when she agreed to go on a date with him, the fact that she agreed in the first place somehow messed with Owen’s head. On the one hand, he felt awesome and happy; proud, that a woman like Claire finally considered him. On the other hand, however, nervousness was gnawing away at him, an insecurity about whether he _really_ was worth her time. He did his best to suppress this nervousness, just like he used to during his time in the navy. It worked, and on the day that he and Claire were supposed to go out for dinner, everything went extremely well at first. Blue, Charlie, Delta, and Echo listened to him more often than not, InGen sent him a message that they were extremely happy with his progress, and several of his men were deeply impressed when he mentioned that he would take Claire out that night. Everything was poised for an excellent start. After showering and shaving he spent a few minutes in front of his wardrobe trying to decide what to wear. His first choice were board shorts, as it was unbearably hot as usual. While he wondered for a second if long trousers would be more suitable for a date, he eventually decided to go with the shorts. It was the way he preferred to dress, and if a woman didn’t like that about him, it was her problem, not his. After all, he wouldn’t change who he was just for another person. Plus, he’d worn board shorts to dates in the past, when he was still stationed in San Diego, and girls always found his shorts cute as it showed that he was “down to earth” (or so they said, at least). 

 

The second Claire saw him at the entrance of Jurassic World’s corporate offices he knew that he should have gone with the long trousers. Claire looked impeccable as ever, in a dark blue shift dress with simple jewelry and black high heels, and when she noticed his ensemble, her right eyebrow rose ever so slightly. She didn’t let her disapproval show more obviously, though, and instead broke into a wide, unreadable smile as she greeted him. 

 

They had agreed to go to a Mexican restaurant on the island when Owen had asked Claire out, and on their way there, Owen tried his best to make up for the board shorts and to coax out the unrestrained Claire he’d seen at the petting zoo at six in the morning. 

 

In hindsight, he often wondered what was wrong with him that night. Aside from the board shorts (seriously, who on Earth thought that they could take a woman like Claire Dearing on a date in board shorts?) he’d done everything wrong in his very own books. After years of experience in carefully enticing animals and people to come out of their shell and to trust him, he’d gone about the same situation with Claire like a bulldozer. At first, he’d shot question after question at her, in hopes of showing her that he was interested in her as a person, and while he actually was interested in what she had to say, he’d failed to see that she grew increasingly uncomfortable, and that his constant questions probably felt like an interrogation to her. As a result, she seemed to close off more and more, and Owen grew increasingly desperate to gain her trust and to prove to her that he was actually a cool, easy-going guy that she could have fun with. 

 

When the time came to order, Claire asked for a salad without dressing and a water. Owen pestered her to have a Margarita like him, hoping that the alcohol would help loosen her up a little, but Claire resolutely refused, telling him that she had to continue working later that night and that her diet didn’t allow her to drink tequila. 

 

After they’d ordered, Owen tried to lighten up the mood with a few jokes, which she apparently didn’t find very funny, and then he switched to talking about the raptors. When he first began to tell Claire about his girls, she seemed genuinely interested; she asked him follow-up questions, and her attention was thoroughly trained on him. Overjoyed that he finally found a topic that Claire was interested in, he kept going about the raptors - and once again missed the point where he went over-the-top.

 

Owen only stopped talking about his girls when their food came. By that time, he had almost finished his Margarita, and looked skeptically at Claire’s salad plate. 

“You know, if you want some real food, feel free to have some of mine,” he joked, but once again, Claire didn’t seem to share his humor. She merely fixed him with a steely glare and a clipped “No, thank you.”

“Are you always this uptight?” Owen blurted out before his brain could tell his mouth to stay shut. 

Claire’s eyes shot up from her salad and immediately turned icy. 

“I beg your pardon?” she replied, her voice like granite. Her eyes narrowed and her entire body seemed to tense, almost as if she readied herself to attack. 

Now that he finally had an actual, strong reaction from Claire, Owen couldn’t stop himself. 

“You’ve been sitting here all night straight and calm like a statue. Do you ever, like, have fun? Go out? Have a life? I mean, look at that - salad without dressing? Who does that? It’s almost as if you’re trying to cut everything out of your life that could potentially be fun and enjoyable,” he said, in a tone that was half-mocking, half-serious. 

Claire’s face contorted into a fake smile and she batted her eyelids a few times. 

“Well, that’s the beauty of the world we live in. We all get to do what we want. If I want to be productive instead of lazily hanging out at the beach doing nothing, then I can do just that. If I want a salad without dressing, I can have it. And if I don’t want to drink alcohol, I don’t have to drink alcohol,” she replied in a calm, friendly voice that felt like it had a razor blade hidden inside it. 

“Hey, look, I’m not trying to attack you or anything. But you have to admit that you’re all about control. I get that that’s really important for your work, and it probably makes you awesome at your job, but you really should let go sometimes. Live a little. You don’t have to plan everything, every now and then you just have to roll with things,” Owen said, his eyes growing narrow. “What’s that?” 

When he’d mentioned the fact that Claire didn’t have to plan everything, her eyes had briefly flittered to a piece of paper on the table next to her. He didn’t even remember her putting it there. 

“N-nothing,” Claire replied, and Owen swore that she looked a little bit flustered. She tried to take the paper off the table, but Owen was faster, and he immediately began reading out loud: 

 

“Date Claire Dearing & Owen Grady, August 1st, 2014

7:00 pm: OG to pick up CD at 241 Corporate Street, Office Building A, Main Entrance.

7:15 pm: Arrival at Padre’s, 21 Main Street; followed by dinner.

9:00 pm (approx.): OG to drop off CD at 241 Corporate Street, Office Building A, West Entrance.

_Possible conversation topics:_

  *    Weather (esp. Hurricane Season)
  *    Opening of New Stegosaurus Enclosure (July 15th)
  *    Velociraptors trained by OG (Names: Blue, Charlie, Delta, Echo; 16 weeks old)
  *    Latest movies ( _Edge of Tomorrow, 22 Jump Street, Transformers 4, Dawn of the Planets of the Apes_ )
  *    Football World Cup Brazil (1st place: GER; 2nd: AR; 3rd: NL; 4th: BR).”



 

He lowered the sheet he was holding and stared at her incredulously. 

“Is that - did you - did you actually make a plan for _tonight_?” he asked, his voice clouded in laughter.  

Claire looked mortified. 

“No, I didn’t. Zara did. She makes agendas for all my appointments,” she replied calmly, composing herself. 

“ _Appointments_? Is that what this is?” Owen wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to be angry. “I thought we were on a date.” He inspected the document again. “She even attached a map showing the walk from your office building to the restaurant and back,” he added, still in utter disbelief. 

“Yes, because she knows I like things organized,” Claire replied, her voice dangerously calm. 

Owen dropped the sheet back on to Claire’s side of the table, and she quickly buried it in her purse. He still couldn’t stop laughing. 

“Come on, you have to admit that this is pretty funny,” he said, snickering. “Do you also make a plan when you have to go to the bathroom? Or for sleeping? 11pm: Lie down and close eyes, in bedroom, own apartment. 11:02 pm: Start drifting off. 11:05 pm: enter light sleep…” The last sentence ended in another bout of his laughter. 

For a second, Owen thought he could see a pained expression cross Claire’s features, but at the next moment, her face had become completely void of emotion, and her lips were forming a thin line. She fished something out of her purse. 

“Look, I don’t think this whole thing was a good idea. We’re clearly not… compatible. Let’s stop all of this now before we’re wasting anymore time tonight,” Claire said decidedly as she stood up and dropped a few bills on to the table. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Grady. Have a good evening.”

Owen stood up, too, without thinking. 

“Seriously? Is that what you think we’ve been doing so far - wasting time?” He couldn’t quite keep his hurt from tingeing his voice. “You know, maybe you can draw up an efficiency strategy for your next date, then. If a certain set of factors isn’t fulfilled within the first five minutes, you can leave right away. A perfect, heartless way to evaluate your romantic prospects.”

“If that saves me from bad jokes and never-ending stories like you’ve been putting me through tonight, that kind of strategy actually sounds pretty amazing,” Claire shot back, her eyes glowering. 

“Oh, really? Well, then I’m sorry that I put you through so much trouble! Never mind that I was trying my best to thaw at least some of that icy wall you keep putting up,” Owen replied heatedly. 

“Is that why you’re wearing _board shorts_? To draw in the heat?” Claire asked, one perfect eyebrow raised high before she sighed. 

“This is ridiculous. Good night, Mr. Grady.” With that, she stalked out of the restaurant. 

Owen collapsed into his chair and wiped his hands across his face, ignoring the whispering guests around him that had witnessed the little exchange. 

 

He was in a bad mood for days after that. He was angry with Claire, but mostly, he was angry with himself. Yes, Claire was stuck up and a control freak, but he had the feeling that if he had watched her more closely and gauged her reactions more carefully, he would have had a chance at pulling down the walls she so carefully set up. He’d made her uncomfortable, as much as he hated to admit it, and caused her to further and further distance herself from him instead of drawing closer to him. He’d even called her “heartless” and “icy” – attributes she no doubt knew others threw at her behind her back on a daily level – when he really just wanted to make her laugh, see her smile. He wished that he could go back to start all over again, or at least, that he could get another opportunity to show her that he _could_ listen and that he _could_ be trusted, and that on that fateful night his brain had just stopped working somehow. However, he didn’t dare to ask her on a second date, and so whenever the subject of Claire came up with others, he was careful to draw up his own tested-and-tried walls of coolness and humor to hide his anger at himself.


End file.
